"Excuse me, you dropped something."
Mia Grant saw that the hand stopping her was holding a meal card.
His knuckles were prominent, his nails neatly trimmed. His fingertips had gone slightly white from the force of his grip on the card.
His hands were very handsome, his skin fair.
Perfect for holding and admiring up close.
Mia Grant was a secret hand connoisseur, a maniac for holding hands.
But right now, that wasn't the point!
Staring at the familiar face before her, she felt her mind reeling for a moment.
The voice of the person in front of her didn't sound quite like the Ian Sinclair she remembered, but...
Her gaze swept over the small mole on his collarbone. 'If this isn't Ian Sinclair, then who is it?'
Mia Grant kept the brim of her hat pulled low, not daring to meet his eyes.
'Ian Sinclair probably hasn't recognized me, right?'
